Entropy
by glitteratiglue
Summary: After Nero, everything between them has changed. Nyota and Spock are faced with stark choices with regard to the future of their relationship.
1. Entropy

I've planned 3 chapters, but it may end up being more. This first chapter is a missing moment set between Nero's defeat and Spock's conversation with Spock Prime.

_entropy: a lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder._

* * *

She knows something's wrong the second she hears the chime. Spock _never_ comes to her quarters. The cramped confines of a shared cadet's room have never held much appeal for them, and they prefer to spend their time in the more spacious environment of his officer's quarters on the other side of the campus.

Her eyes are red, and as Spock looks around, taking in the the room, she knows he understands. She's sitting on Gaila's bed, the bed that's still covered with all the items she wasn't able to fit into her regulation Starfleet luggage.

Unchanged by time. Except everything has changed. Her effusive Orion roommate is one of numerous cadets who will never be coming back to their dorms, blown to pieces by the Romulan ship that still haunts her nightmares.

"_Nashaut_," she murmurs, using that deliciously intimate Vulcan greeting that's only for them.

"_Na'shaya,"_ is his clipped reply, and he avoids meeting her eyes. "Nyota," he adds in that same flat tone, regarding her coolly.

His careful use of the standard greeting, rather than the one used between bonded pairs, speaks volumes. Normally Spock's Vulcan flows with the intimacy and love he feels for her, the rhythmic cadence of his native language serving as a conduit for lover's words that sound awkward and stilted in Standard. The greeting she just heard was cold and devoid of feeling, a stark contrast.

"_Taluhk nash-veh k'dular (I cherish thee),"_ he whispers to her sometimes when they make love, in tones so ragged and lustful that she can't believe that voice belongs to the same man who calls her _Lieutenant Uhura_ on the bridge. The man who presses his fingers to her psi points and lets her feel his overwhelming want and desire for her as the bright heat of their combined release surges through the link between their minds. That Spock is capable of being so loving and open is a secret only she knows, and she thrills at knowing it's only for her.

Spock examines Gaila's possessions with interest, and she can tell he's resisting the compulsion to tell her that it would be more efficient to simply stack the deceased cadet's personal effects in a box one by one, rather than sorting through the gaudy piles of items that are strewn all over the bed. But this is the way she remembers Gaila – chaotic, beautiful and so _much_ – and she wants to hold onto her for just a little longer.

Picking up a garish ring with twinkling gemstones, no doubt of Orion manufacture, Nyota feels something bubble to the surface. All the anguish and horror she has had to lock away to focus on her duty surges without warning, and she weeps, her fingers clutching the ring so hard that the metal makes impressions in her palm.

Nyota does not expect Spock to offer empty platitudes or apologies. She does not even expect him to hold her, especially not after the icy manner in which he greeted her.

But even a Vulcan sometimes defies predictability. His expression is impassive, almost curious as he regards her for one long moment, and then he crosses the room and enfolds her in his arms.

She cries for Gaila, for everyone they lost – the tears he can't cry – and he's warm, _so warm_ against her as her fingers curl against his shirt, grasping for an anchor to hold on to even as the tide pulls her under. Her tears are making his uniform jacket wet, but if it bothers him, he says nothing. He is stone against her, solid and dependable and silent.

Spock's fingers carefully stroke her hair, and she is touched by his clumsy attempt at a human gesture of comfort. As her sobs cease, his body tenses and he pulls away.

"Nyota, I realise this may not be an appropriate time, but I must speak with you on a matter of urgency."

A chill slithers down her spine, and she waits for what she's feared the whole voyage back.

Every time they've sought physical comfort in each other since the destruction of Nero, Spock has been different. He holds himself back, refusing to meld with her and share his thoughts.

Each burning press of his mouth and fingers against her body is achingly slow and methodical, until she _begs_ for him to fuck her. His fingers are tight and possessive on her hips as he buries himself in her wet heat, his face taut with concentration like he wants to commit every inch of her to his eidetic memory. As though he's sure that there are only a finite number of times left to them to be together like this.

She realises now that is exactly what he was doing, and that she knew. They'd both known and said nothing, preferring to delay the inevitable. That even Spock is capable of lying to himself stirs something deep inside her, and she blinks back the tears that are threatening to return.

"You're leaving." He says nothing, his keen eyes searching her face for a reaction, and that's when she knows it's true.

"The Vulcan elders, including my father, are currently searching for a suitable planet on which to establish a colony for survivors. I must assist in the efforts to rebuild my race."

"Of course," she agrees, her voice far away and numb with grief. She would never ask him to stay for her, and he knows this better than anyone. Nor would he ask her to go with him and give up her Starfleet career.

"It is only -"

"Logical," she finishes for him, with a faint smile.

"Yes," he says quietly, his hands still in his lap as he looks down at them. "I hoped you would understand that my duty is with my people."

"And mine is on the _Enterprise._" The calmness of her reply surprises her, but in the face of so much death and destruction, the situation of two people seems to matter little.

He swallows. "I would never want you to give up a promising future. Starfleet will require your talents for a good while longer, I anticipate."

"And your people will need yours," she agrees. He absently reaches up to tug at his ear, betraying how uncomfortably he feels, and it's just so undeniably human and _Spock _that there's a sudden lump in her throat_. _He's still her beautiful Spock, who bridges the gap between two worlds with such aplomb, even when he doesn't realise it.

"Where does that leave us?" she forces herself to ask, even if she already knows the answer.

"Unable to continue as we are." He's unable to keep the emotion out of his voice, and she can feel how torn he is, caught between what he wants, and what he feels he must do. The choice between a world that he has never felt at home in, and the home-world that has never accepted him, that led him to seek the stars in the hope of finding a place for himself. His desire to be both the logician and her lover, when right now he is struggling to balance the two.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"I believe that is the Terran phrase most commonly attributed to these circumstances."

His reply is thoroughly Vulcan, but his actions unmistakeably human. He reaches out and takes her hand. In his haste to touch her, he hasn't maintained his mental shields and she feels a deep well of pain and – _anger? _Its intensity shocks her, and she gasps at the onslaught of emotion that simmers beneath his placid surface.

Spock is hurting. More than she even imagined. It stuns her, and she longs to take him in her arms and bring him comfort like he just did for her.

He draws back, clasping his hands behind him in his customary fashion, almost as if he doesn't trust himself not to touch her again.

"I am sorry. I did not intend to cause you pain."

"Spock," she says softly, placing her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. It's an innocent enough gesture, but he tenses at the touch.

"Nyota, I wish that -"

"Vulcans wish?" He raises an eyebrow.

"I am merely attempting to use your vernacular to explain to you how difficult I find the idea that I will have to leave you. If things were different, I would -" Words fail him again. Spock, who can always convey an idea with clarity, is speechless.

Nyota's stomach lurches, and she finds she is angry at Spock for revealing this. Far better that he had explained to her in his cool tones how it was the logical choice for them to separate, before leaving her to cry in peace. How dare he torture her with what might be?

"But things aren't different," she snaps, and his eyes narrow. "You've made your choice, let me make mine."

She stands up, thinking only of leaving, but she's dragged back before she can take one step.

"No," he says roughly, and then he's right there, his body pressing her into the wall, hard and unyielding.

Spock's eyes meet hers, and she can feel him hesitate, muscles tensing as his hands rest on her shoulders.

"Please," she whispers, and it's enough to break him. The dark eyes flash, and then his mouth is on hers, the kiss instantly becoming wet and deep as he grinds his hips against her, letting her feel his obvious arousal.

Nyota knows they're only postponing the pain, but she doesn't care.

She wraps her arms round his neck and returns his kiss as his hand tightens on her hip and he pulls her towards him.

Her buttons work at his uniform jacket, push it off his shoulders, and he tugs his undershirt over his head. He does not bother to divest her of any clothing, simply reaches under her skirt and tears away her underwear. Hot fingers slip against her, finding her already soaking wet, and Spock makes an uncharacteristically alien noise that almost sounds like a growl.

She lets him lift her, press her back against the startling coolness of the wall as she let her knees fall open, wraps her legs round his hips.

He fumbles at his belt, the other hand holding her up with his easy strength. And then he's there, right there, spreading her open and pressing deep inside with one swift stroke.

When they lock eyes, his face wears the same blank expression it always does, but his breaths are as shaky and unsteady as hers, and his eyes are dark and full of a desperation only she can perceive as he begins to move.

Nyota clutches at his back, nails dragging on his heated skin as his hips snap into hers in a punishing rhythm.

Spock avoids their hands touching, obviously not wanting her to know his thoughts, but she gets echoes of them anyway. The hands that dig into her hips hard enough to bruise, the deep, harsh thrusts of his body into hers, and the quiet pants against her forehead tell her more than his thoughts ever could.

She moans quietly, then louder, slipping into cries of his name, allowing herself to find some kind of emotional catharsis in this. It's not as if there's even anyone left alive on her floor to hear.

His fingers slide from her hip, down to the spot where they join, spreading the moisture he finds there as he traces frantic circles. Coupled with the burning friction of him inside her, it's enough to send her over the edge, searing heat surging through her entire body as her climax engulfs her.

Spock goes rigid against her, and with one deep, shattering thrust, he finds his own release.

"Nyota," he whispers against her hair, his voice low and full of the raw emotion that doesn't show on his face.

He sets her on her feet carefully, and Nyota tugs down her uniform skirt, smoothes her hair, tries to ignore the sticky pulsing between her thighs that feels like he's still inside her.

Glancing at her hands, she examines the traces of green under her fingernails that match the scratches on his back. A parting gift of sorts, the last marks made by her he will ever bear upon his skin. He quickly covers them up with his uniform.

His fingers trace her cheek, and just as quickly, they're gone.

"_Ti'amah (let me go), Nyota,"_ he intones softly, briefly switching to his native Vulcan.

She can't stop her tears and he stops, frozen on the spot, although he does not turn. His back stiffens, and his hands are clutched into fists at his sides.

"Then go, Spock," she chokes out.

Without a backward glance, he leaves. It doesn't escape her notice that his fingers shake as they press the door control.

* * *

I love Spock and Uhura, but I also love angst. And porny angst. Sorry. Remember, this is canon - so the breakup is only temporary. Apologise for any unintentional bastardisation of Vulcan phrases. No beta, so excuse any weirdness or typos that may have sneaked in. Please leave a review if you so wish!


	2. Fissures

Spock opens the bathroom cabinet, takes out the dermakit and examines the scratches covering his back under the harsh light of the mirror.

He reaches for the box, but something makes him hesitate.

After all, they are only superficial scratches. It would be best not to waste valuable Starfleet medical supplies on such minor injuries. Spock decides that letting the scratches heal on their own would be the logical choice.

He dresses for the presentation ceremony, checks his PADD for messages. Captain Pike is much improved despite the extensive damage to his nervous system. Spock is pleased that Starfleet will not lose one of its most skilled captains. Pike's message also notes that the _Enterprise _crew have three weeks of shore leave.

It is illogical for him to take any interest in this, as he is currently without a commission and plans to resign his post and accompany the Vulcan elders to their new colony.

As illogical as it is for him to wonder where Nyota will be sitting in the lecture hall.

* * *

Unable to sleep despite the late hour, Spock flicks through the list on his PADD and opens an article on Trill morphology. It proves to be most interesting. Thinking that Nyota would like to read it, he takes out his comm, filled with the sudden urge to contact her. Staring at the display, he notes it reads 0_3.47._ Too early.

After the strange conversation he had earlier with his counterpart, he was tempted to go straight to Nyota's quarters. However, he wasn't sure what he might say. He instead went to see his father, who he felt had not quite understood his reasons, but accepted his decision to remain in Starfleet.

He knew enough from observing shipboard relationships and his years at the Academy to know that it was customary for both parties to give each other 'space' after the ending of a relationship.

The thought crosses his mind that if he is not to leave Starfleet after all, perhaps it did not have to end.

He tells himself he does not miss her, for that is a human impulse he is unable to experience.

Vulcans do not dream, he reminds himself as he lies back against his pillows and once more tries to calm himself enough to sleep.

When Spock wakes, hot and tangled in his sheets, his erection pressed against his thigh, his mind full of her scent and taste and the way it feels when their bodies join, he is shamed by his lack of restraint. He reminds himself that is nothing more than a physical response, something he can attribute to the half-human part of him.

The part that is _weak_.

At least his Vulcan physiology allows him control over certain bodily functions. He breathes deeply and concentrates until he feels the crashing waves of lust and heat ebb away.

1.4 hours later, he is still unable to fall back to sleep. He calculates there is a 84.3% chance that he will not sleep at all tonight if he does not attempt to bring his thoughts under control.

An image of her flashes across his thoughts, unbidden. Nyota asleep in his bed, her warm head pillowed on his thighs while he reads a PADD. Vulcans do not need as much sleep as humans do, but Nyota disliked sleeping without him next to her, and that was the compromise they had come to. He would work while she slept. At the time he had pointed out that it was illogical for him to remain, because in a state of slumber she was not even aware of his presence, but Nyota had protested. Sometimes he would find his hand in her hair, caressing the strands absent-mindedly. It was a most pleasant experience, and he found on those nights she slept on him that his productivity increased by 7.8%.

It's not at all erotic, not like the thoughts that disturbed his sleep, but it unexpectedly makes his stomach twist, almost to the point where he fears he will vomit. He sits up in bed, gasping, and it takes a full minute for his breathing to even out.

Spock considers the strange physical reaction he has just experienced. He has not eaten anything unusual, and drunk his usual 2.5 glasses of water this evening as required to maintain optimal brain and bodily function. He makes a mental note to seek out Doctor McCoy tomorrow. The man's sense of propriety left something to be desired – indeed, Nyota had described him as 'grumpy' – but his medical skills and knowledge of alien physiology were unmatched in Starfleet.

Yes, Doctor McCoy would know what to do.

Spock gets up, puts on a robe and sits before his _asenoi_, keeping his focus on the flame as he attempts to meditate once more. There was a time where he could meditate for hours, luxuriating in the clarity of his thoughts. That has not happened since the _Enterprise_ left the docking bay to answer Vulcan's distress call.

_/nyota/_

_/need you/_

_/yes/_

_/now/_

His thoughts are chaotic, unfocused, and full of her. He decides there is little point in continuing. Abandoning his meditation, he brews a cup of spiced tea and drinks it slowly as he watches the sun's light bleed into the sky, the reddish purple mixing with the gold on the horizon. Earth's sun is weak compared to Vulcan's, but he thinks the two are aesthetically comparable. _Were_, he corrects himself.

It was the moon his mother missed most about living away from Earth. To Spock it was just another colony with inferior gravity, but his mother harboured illogical, romantic notions about its beauty, probably from the Terran poetry and prose she loved to read.

Spock has not raised his window shades at night for some time, preferring not to see the moon.

* * *

Doctor McCoy looks surprised when Spock enters the campus medical bay, but recovers himself enough to greet him warmly.

"Commander Spock! What brings you here?" he asks.

"I have experienced an unusual reaction, Doctor. I find myself unable to sleep and with stomach pains. It is most unpleasant."

The doctor says little, motions for Spock to lie on the biobed and begins scanning him with a tricorder. McCoy frowns, peering at the display.

"Well, I can't see anything wrong. Your heart rate is slightly elevated, it's currently operating at -"

"- 284 beats per minute, yes."

McCoy looks nonplussed, before a flicker of understanding crosses his face and Spock surmises that the doctor is recalling his knowledge of basic Vulcan physiology.

"Man, that is freaky. I always forget that Vulcans can control their own metabolic functions."

"It is a most useful ability at times, doctor. However, I find myself increasingly unable to control it."

McCoy sits back on his desk and sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Spock, there's no physical explanation for your stomach pains or elevated heart rate. "

Spock allows himself to feel relieved for a brief moment, but then he picks up on the meaning in the doctor's words. If the explanation is not physical, then it must be...

"Now I know you're not going to agree with me here, but I think your physical symptoms are rooted in your mental state."

"I hardly think so, doctor. I am Vulcan, we do not allow our minds to be in such a state as to affect us physically."

"Spock, you throttled Jim on the bridge!" McCoy says, losing his cool. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that you're not affected by your recent experiences at all?"

"Thank you for reminding me of that, doctor," Spock replies coolly, beginning to regret his earlier positive appraisal of the doctor's medical credentials. "Truly, I would not have remembered had you not thought to bring it up."

"Is that sarcasm?" Spock raises an eyebrow in response, and he's surprised when McCoy laughs, a hearty chuckle. "Spock, I'm impressed. Never thought you had it in you."

"Look, I can refer you to counselling," the doctor adds, and his gruff tone has softened, his expression kinder. "We have a counselor on staff who spent time on Vulcan during her training. She is used to the er – emotional restraint shown by Vulcans."

"I thank you for your advice, but I do not believe that is required."

"Very well. I can only make the suggestion as your attending physician, as long as it does not affect your fitness for duty."

"I understand." There is an awkward pause. "Doctor McCoy, should I return to the _Enterprise_, I would rather that Captain Kirk was not informed about this."

McCoy holds up his hands. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, Spock. He won't hear of it."

"Do try and relax, won't you, and enjoy the time off?"

"Vulcans do not 'relax', doctor, but I will endeavour to exist in a state of relative contentment until another commission becomes available_. _I note the _Enterprise_ has not yet finished her repairs._" _Spock is surprised to find himself using the feminine pronoun to refer to the ship, a practice he has always found highly illogical.

One of his mother's strange idioms comes to mind. _"When in Rome..."_

There's a flash of pain, sudden and white hot like he's been punched in the gut.

No. He is not ready to think of his mother. This is most unlike him, to experience such a loss of emotional control during an everyday conversation. His only explanation for this strange behaviour is that Doctor McCoy's line of questioning has unsettled him.

"Fair enough," says McCoy. "And there was me thinking everyone was having more fun than me. Jim's working his way through half the female cadets on campus, Chekhov, Scotty and Sulu are hiking in Yosemite, and Uhura's gone to Nairobi to visit her family. What about you, Spock? Any plans?"

Spock feels himself visibly stiffen. Nyota was away and had not even thought to tell him. He knew her sister Makena was heavily pregnant, so perhaps she had delivered and Nyota had gone to visit the new family member.

He feels the twisting feeling in his gut once more, and rationalises that he has eaten nothing today, therefore it must indicate that he requires nourishment.

"Spock, are you alright?" asks the doctor, regarding him curiously.

Spock hastily arranges his features into an appropriately blank expression. "Yes, doctor. I have some research to catch up on. My father and the other Vulcan elders departed the planet yesterday for the new colony, prior to this I was busy helping them make arrangements. I note that you are not taking any leave, Doctor McCoy. Do you not also require time to relax?"

"It's either work here or be forced to see my ex-wife." The doctor shudders. "It seems that our near-death experience in space has made her want to reconsider things, but hell no. I barely made it out of that marriage alive the first time. I told her Starfleet weren't willing to give me time off."

"I see." Spock was reminded of how humans could be exceedingly strange. "Thank you, Doctor McCoy."

"Take care, Spock. Maybe I'll see you back on the _Enterprise._"

"Perhaps, Doctor."

Spock takes his lunch alone at a quiet table in the canteen, away from the chatter of the cadets. He eats the required amount to sustain him but notices the food seems to have little taste. _Strange. _He considers the unsettling exchange with McCoy, the way he had reacted merely to the mention of Nyota's name.

Bringing up the technical reports on his PADD, he sees that the _Enterprise_ will be ready for duty in seven days. He knows that Admiral Komack has considered sending the flagship on a five-year mission.

Spock swallows. It would seem to be imperative that he was able to return to his post on the _Enterprise. _Bringing up his email, he taps out a brief message to Admiral Pike.

* * *

Leonard McCoy remains preoccupied long after he watches the tall Vulcan stride from the room. For some reason, he was struck by the way Spock freaked out at the mention of Uhura's name. God knows Spock had suffered enough tragedy of late to render him ill, but something just didn't seem to fit.

Stomach pains, lack of sleep? If he didn't know any better he'd say the Commander was _heartsick. _He scans his memory, recalling subtle glances on the bridge, the way the Commander's eyes seemed to follow Lieutenant Uhura like a magnet. Surely they couldn't be...

No.

It must be the stress of the mission causing him to crack up. Or perhaps the tedium of the campus medical practice which primarily consists of dealing with tearful cadets and their relationship problems, and doling out prophylactics. For the remainder of the morning, McCoy is distracted. He barks at the nurses even more than usual, ignores three phone calls from his ex-wife and finds himself thinking longingly of the bottle of aged bourbon hidden behind a stack of PADDs on Andorian anatomy.

Goddamn space. It was sending him crazy.

* * *

The fact that Jim Kirk has allowed him to return to his role as First Officer aboard the _Enterprise _brings Spock more relief than he is willing to admit.

He crosses to his station, knowing Nyota is there just behind the glass. He feels his heart rate infinitesimally begin to rise, a physical reaction to her presence. He nods at her and she returns his nod with a dazzling smile she seems unable to suppress.

Spock is slightly surprised, considering he had left her in tears. Perhaps it would not be so hard to persuade her that they had made a hasty decision. However, when she returns to her station, she does not look at him, and he thinks that he must have misinterpreted her reaction. It would not be the first time he had failed to read human behaviour correctly. He takes a seat at his console, and listens to Kirk detail their mission to investigate Nibiru, a Class M planet located in the Beta Quadrant.

Nyota does not look at him, and he does not look at her.

Thankfully, there is more than enough to keep him occupied. They have received reports of an infestation of blastoneurons on the colony Deneva, and Spock finds himself absorbed in the analysis of these fascinating parasites.

1.5 hours into the shift, Nyota swivels in her chair and he is hit by the heady, jasmine scent of her shampoo. He fights the urge to inhale deeply, and is suddenly acutely aware of every movement she makes, every small sigh and tap of her fingers on the console. It is becoming unbearable to be so near to her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her update the subspace logs and make a start on translating a possible Romulan translation. Since Nero there has been an unusual level of traffic in the Neutral Zone.

So absorbed is Spock in watching Nyota, that he belatedly realises the captain has called his name twice.

"Spock! Tactical reports, please." Spock swivels his chair and notes that Kirk looks amused.

"Apologies, Captain. Sending them to your PADD immediately."

Spock does not look at Nyota, but can sense her watching him thoughtfully.

Hours later, he asks her to join him for dinner in the mess hall. For one terrible moment, he thinks she will say no, but she nods and follows him without a word.

It's not busy. Nyota easily secures a quiet table. Spock orders two servings of plomeek soup and kreyla from the replicator. Upon receiving it, he pauses, realising her did not ask her what she wanted.

"Is this acceptable?" he asks awkwardly.

"Affirmative," she says with a small smile. He knows she is making fun of him, but her eyes are kind. Nyota has always teased him relentlessly, but he finds that with her, he does not mind. She has never expected him to be anything but who he is, and he has always afforded her the same courtesy.

He shakes two spice sachets over his soup – it is much blander than the spicier version he makes, his mother's recipe – and dips the hard Vulcan flatbread in the soup to soften it.

They talk. He is careful to listen attentively, to speak with intonation and change his tone in all the right places as she tells about her recent visit to Nairobi. Her sister has given birth to a son, and he notes that his speculation on the reason for her journey was correct. Spock asks after Makena's health, and observes the holos of baby Chitundu that she shows him on her PADD. He muses that human and Vulcan infants look entirely the same, except for the ears. Both looked rather scrunchy and were prone to excessive displays of emotion, in Spock's experience.

After a while, Nyota puts her spoon down and steeples her fingers. She looks straight at him.

"I can't do this, Spock. I can't pretend like nothing's happened. When are we going to talk about this? One minute you were leaving for Vulcan and I was never going to see you again, and now you're here."

"I did not anticipate that this would be a problem, Nyota. I assumed, perhaps incorrectly, that now the situation has changed and I am remaining on the _Enterprise_, you would be pleased."

He pauses. "Forgive me, I must explain why I did not accompany my family."

"I know, Kirk told me," she replies, and Spock finds that strangely, he does not mind this at all. "It's kind of freaky to think that there is another you out there. I happen to think one Spock is more than enough for this universe."

It takes him a moment to realise she is joking again. His hand twitches, he wants to touch her so much, and he draws it back to the edge of the table.

"Perhaps. As a result, I propose that I may have been somewhat hasty in my suggestion that we discontinue our relationship."

The silence swells between them as he waits for her reply.

"Spock, I need a little time to process this."

It is an answer he does not expect. He thinks of asking how much time she will require – 4 hours, 3.2 Terran days, a week, a month? Spock decides to keep this thought to himself. Something tells him that Nyota would not appreciate it.

She takes her tray, leaving half her soup and flatbread uneaten. It is not like Nyota to refuse nourishment, and it concerns him to see that she has not eaten enough to satisfy her daily calorie requirements.

He drops his voice so that nobody will hear. "Nyota. Please wait. I -"

The word _ashayam_ is on his lips, to tell her she is his beloved, and that has not changed, but the word sticks in his throat, and he does not say it.

Nyota gives a sigh of frustration and departs.

Spock ends up pushing his own food away after a few more bites, conscious of the sudden and unwelcome discomfort in his stomach.

* * *

Eight days later, at exactly 02.39 hours, Spock sits cross-legged before his _asenoi,_ his thoughts steady and quiet as he inhabits the subconscious levels of his mind.

The chime rings again, and this time Spock notices. He does not open his eyes, but he already feels her presence.

_/nyota/_

_/come/_

The words seep through his thoughts, and though he does not speak them aloud she comes in anyway.

"Lights at 50%," says Nyota, and he hears the squeak of her boots as she steps into his quarters.

"I'm sorry. You were meditating."

Letting his eyes flicker open, Spock gets up and turns to her. He notices that the soft light makes her dark skin appear luminous and entirely too touchable. A most distracting thought.

Hours of careful control of his mind has clearly not helped to subdue his body's reactions to her. His pulse thrums beneath his skin, and he can feel himself flushing in the half-light as images flicker across his mind of her in his bed, unclothed.

"It is of no consequence. Are you well, Nyota? At this late hour you would normally be asleep."

"I wanted to tell you I've come to a decision."

"You have?" He lets no emotion show on his face, but his heart rate creeps up. _260_ beats per minute. _264. 271. 280._ Every beat crashes in his ear, so distractingly loud that he feels she must be able to hear it, even though it is illogical to think that. Of course she cannot hear it.

When she crosses the room and places her hand over his, he wants nothing more than to hold her, but fears losing his already fragile emotional control. He settles for holding her hand, and laces his fingers into hers. He does not shield his thoughts from her, and impressions from both their minds reverberate the instant their fingers touch. There's confusion, heated waves of desire, and a cold loneliness that is painfully familiar to him.

"I can't be without you, Spock." Her eyes are wet.

The knots in his stomach untwist, and he dimly registers that perhaps Doctor McCoy was right after all.

"And it seems I am unable to be without you, Nyota. Therefore, I propose that it would be logical to resume our relationship."

"You really know how to make a girl weak at the knees, Spock." But she's smiling, and Spock feels an illogical wave of hope.

"I am sorry for the pain I have caused you," he says carefully, unsure how she will react.

"We've all been in a lot of pain. There's no need to apologise."

She removes her hand from his, looks away, and he can see her eyes glistening with the tears she is fighting not to shed. He knows this is for his benefit, and it bothers him that Nyota is suppressing her emotions like this. Although, considering what happened the last time she cried in his presence, perhaps it is for the best. He allows her to calm herself, waiting for her breathing returning to normal before he speaks again.

"Indeed. Nearly everyone on this ship appears to have lost someone close to them. The fact that Starfleet have insisted a ship's counselor accompany this mission is understandable. I have noticed that humans express their grief in a variety of ways, from humour to anger."

She looks up at him curiously, and Spock feels further explanation is required.

"When I was a small boy, my Terran grandmother died. I had not known her well, so it meant little to me, however it had a great impact on my mother. She dealt with her grief in a manner that seemed most peculiar. Sometimes she would talk of her and tell stories, look through holos of her past life on Earth, and at other times she would lock herself in the bedroom and cry for hours at a time. It alarmed my father, but, in time, she ceased to express her grief in that way."

"That sounds pretty normal, Spock. It must have been hard for you and your father, unable to relate to what she was going through."

"It was – painful. Vulcans share familial bonds, and I felt her grief keenly. It was a feeling I did not understand, however, until recent events." Spock averts his gaze, sure that if he meets her eyes and sees the selfless pity and understanding held within them, he will be unable to prevent an emotional outburst. His heart starts to race again, and he closes his eyes, concentrating in an attempt to bring his feelings under control. It has little effect.

To his own surprise, he grasps her hand and draws it to his chest. She slides her fingers over until she finds the place where his heart is, and he knows she can feel the rapid beating of his Vulcan heart against his bare skin. He says nothing, but her face softens as she feels the one physical manifestation of his grief he cannot hide.

"Oh, Spock. How can you bear it?"

She had said as much to him previously, in the weeks following Nero's destruction. He never understood it before, and told her that it was merely a case of processing the emotional responses over time. An overly simplistic assessment, to say the least.

"I do not know," he admits quietly, his hand trembling in hers. She reaches up to touch his face.

"_Tushah nash-veh k'du (I grieve with thee)_," she whispers, her warm hand curving against his cheek, and it makes a place inside him ache. To hear her speak his language conjures up images of the red-gold sands and jagged rock formations of Vulcan, places he always meant to show Nyota one day.

A future that is gone. But in its place she is here, and she is warm and alive and accepting of him. Spock is aware that he is immeasurably grateful for this, more than she knows.

"I am aware you are upset by the loss of Cadet Gaila. I regret that I did not tell you that." He finds his choice of words to be distinctly irrational, as it makes no sense to apologise for something that he played no part in. However, it is a common human response, and he wishes Nyota to know that he has considered her feelings over the death of a close friend.

"Thank you, Spock." She is obviously touched by his effort to understand her feelings. "It'll get easier in time. Only time can heal grief."

"Yes," he acknowledges, careful to keep any expression out of his voice.

There are drops of moisture clinging to her lashes, and he touches them gently.

He's surprised when Nyota laughs. "You know, I think Gaila would have definitely approved of what we did in that room." Even through his embarrassment, Spock is amazed at the human capacity to experience many different emotional states at once. Unlike many of his own people, he does not see it as a failing, but rather something to be admired.

"I assure you I did not intend that to be the result of our conversation. I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable."

Nyota holds up a hand to silence him. "No, you didn't. I think in that moment, it was what we needed. Like you said, we humans have our own ways of dealing with grief. And you are half-human, after all."

He decides to drop the subject, as Nyota is clearly not troubled by it. She turns, her ponytail whipping behind her, and he can see she intends to leave. The thought makes the cold emptiness inside him return.

"I disturbed your meditation," she says by way of explanation.

"Stay." It is not one of the many words that filters through his mind-lover's endearments he cannot say-but for now, it is enough. Spock longs to show her what he cannot express in words, to join their bodies, open the connection between their minds and allow her feel everything he does.

But not tonight. For tonight, it is enough to hold her. He steps into her space, his hands finding her hips. Nyota winds her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, and he kisses her, weak with the relief that she is here and she is _his_.

They lie on his bed, sharing the silence in the dark until she falls asleep. Spock meditates, and in Nyota Uhura's presence, finds a kind of peace he has not experienced in weeks.

* * *

**Heartbroken Spock is kind of adorkable. I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, I've rewritten it several times already. I hope Spock seems at least relatively in character and not too neurotic and emo.**

***** You may notice I have rewritten the entire ending scene of this chapter, for the reason that I didn't think the tone quite fit. I wanted Spock and Nyota to have some time to grow back together, and also to have her own grief over Gaila acknowledged as much as Spock's over his mother. Hope you're all okay with it.**

**** Also, if Spock's heartbeat seems dangerously high, Vulcan hearts beat way faster than human hearts so I had to compensate for that and up the figure. Bad science ftw. ****I've played a bit fast and loose with the post Star Trek timeline. I'm sure they had a few months off ship, but in mine it's only been a few weeks (my heart cannot handle breaking these two up for months, seriously).**


End file.
